BECCA THESE SUBBY DBF!BUCKY THOTS ARE KILLING ME IN THE BEST WAY I LOVE IT SO MUCHđ©đ”âđ«đ€€
Coming back to this because my weakness is submissive older men đ€€
Just the thought of clamping your hands around his neck while you're on top and watching him lose it makes me dizzy.
I absolutely love the thought of fucking yourself on him, grinding your hips back and forth with his length inside you while he whimpers and moans beneath you.
He's surrendered all the control he's ever had. You both know that it'd take very little effort if he decided he wanted to change the dynamic but he has no interest in doing that.
He wants you on top of him, using him for your own pleasure rather than his. He wants you to leave scratches down his chest where your nails have sunk into his skin. He wants flushed, stinging cheeks, reminding him of each little slap you've given him when his eyes flutter shut and he stops looking at you for even a few seconds.
But then one of your hands cups his neck and that feels like an entirely different kind of submission. It's not a painful sensation that he expects when he imagines being submissive in bed; it's dizzying. The light pressure on his neck is delightful but more than anything, it feels like you're fully in control. He's vulnerable like this and he loves it.
"Both hands. Please." He's never sounded so needy and any hesitation you might have felt a few seconds ago melts away. Your other hand joins the first, wrapped around his neck, your fingers squeezing slightly and he looks entirely blissed out underneath you.
"Oh fuck." He groans, thrusting his hips up towards you in a desperate attempt to make sure he's buried as deep inside you as he can manage.
"You're fucking pathetic like this." You tease, adjusting your grip on his neck to remind him exactly where your hands are. You feel his pulse under your fingers and you feel your body flutter at the realisation. "You're losing yourself in me, aren't you?"
His eyes close for a few seconds while he tries to focus on the sensation, rather than the sight of you but that won't do. You take one hand from his neck, slapping his face gently and the rush he feels from the release of pressure is euphoric.
"Did I say you could look away?" You tease, putting your hand back on his throat, keeping your grip tight while he shakes his head.
His hands land on your hips, helping you grind back and forth on him, rubbing his length right where you need it. He probably won't get off like this but you absolutely could.
"I want to feel you cum. I need you to squeeze my neck and my cock at the same time." He's fantasised about this and it shows.
"Make me." You were half joking but he starts working your hips faster, setting the pace he knows you like until he stops suddenly, holding your hips still.
"God, I can't cum yet. I don't want this to end." You forgive him this time for closing his eyes, giving him a moment to collect himself before he's back to fucking you on him, begging you to squeeze his neck harder.
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When it's pointed out that you say things like: "I'll be honest with you," "To be honest..." "I'm not gonna lie..." so often and you realize it's because despite being a really good kid, your parents never extended an ounce of trust in you and treated you like a lying, scheming criminal about anything you did out of their sight đ«
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ahahahahahaaalright i know i should be super excited to start at the museum tomorrow but iâm terrified uh
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the giddily writing smut to crying while listening to âthat funny feelingâ pipeline
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HEADCANON.
mary always had a fondness for women. she never fully understood this fondness as a child, often convinced it was not the same as liking a boy. growing up in a heterosexual world clouded her vision and over time she simply repressed this fondness. she had a similar fondness for dylan when the two began dating, swept up by the romance of it all. it wasnât until they started having sex (which was quickly followed by marriage and the conception of their child) that she quietly began to realize her attraction to dylan was only on the surface.
love and attraction were far from her mind when she entered her immortal life. for several years, she saw herself as nothing more than a pestilence and a monster not deserving of love. even then, she still found herself drawn to women in search of a connection. she would convince herself it was too protect them, until one woman changed that.
her name was desirée.
mary met her on her travels across france. it was the dead of night when desirĂ©e came to mary and announced that she believed mary to be a vampire, claiming she had watched the young ekon for several weeks. mary did not deny the claim, instead stating that it was dangerous to make such accusations. desirĂ©e was not frightened. mary left, sparing her life. the next night she returned and made the same claim. maryâs tolerance was thinning, but she offered desirĂ©e a chance to prove her claim. desirĂ©e was no typical woman, she practised witchcraft and knew many secrets about the world that very few mortals were aware of. she told mary all this and mary listened.
night after night, the two continued to meet, sharing stories of their lives and the mystery of the world around them. maryâs attachment to desirĂ©e grew much faster than she had anticipated and soon enough she confessed her attraction with a kiss - not the poisonous kiss, but a real one where it took a great deal of energy to keep herself from devouring this woman alive.
for six years, mary stayed with desirĂ©e and their lives became intertwined. and for a moment, however brief, mary was content. she was happy. but her life was an endless one and desirĂ©eâs was running out. the sickness weakened her, stole away her usual brightness and replaced her with something thin and grey. over and over mary proposed her poisonous kiss, the curse of immortality, but desirĂ©e refused. she wanted a natural end to life, something even her spells couldnât fix. on desirĂ©eâs death bed, mary begged one last time and one last time desirĂ©e refused. she slipped away in the night and mary took care of her burial requests.
while desirĂ©e was not maryâs last partner, she was the last (and arguably first) person mary truly loved. as much as her cold, dead heart would allow.
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This lady at the store jokingly said she was going to be knocking on my door (and my coworker who was talking to me at the timeâs door) at 2 in the morning if we lied about a certain ice cream flavor being good, and my autistic ass almost told her that she doesnât know where we live so how could she knock on our doors.
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you know that thing that guys do when they say theyâre not ready for a relationship but they really mean with YOU so then 4 months later theyâre seeing someone and youâre like đ
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What is a 'simp'? (English isn't my native language)
Itâs Edward being completely in love with the reader to the point where he would do anything for them and is blatantly obvious about it đ
Or âbeing attentive and submissiveâ to their crush in the hopes of them liking them back đ
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what I really hate about being anti-social and unable to navigate friendships is that Iâll never get to experience what itâs like to be completely open and vulnerable with a friend. to have a best friend and maybe even a group of friends you know and love without being tied to a specific circumstance. what a dream.
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losing my mind at these mainstream articles that praised the sequel trilogy to high heaven during their releases (up until after the release of tros, when it was obvious the trilogy was a failure), now giving full negative reviews of kenobiâa show in which all of its episodes have not yet aired. and their reasoning is âboringâ đ
likeâŠif you find kenobi boring, thatâs fine. itâs your opinion. not everyone enjoys the same things. but when you see these articles cite âlack of actionâ or the âunderwhelmingâ nature of vader and obi wanâs fightâdespite an action packed show never being what this show promoted itself to be? deborah chow was pretty clear when she said she was doing a character study. sorry kenobi isnât a marvel movie?
some of us are just happy to see a competently written/directed star wars project that uses its ânostalgiaâ factor less as a crutch and more of a story telling device to seamlessly weave into canon (like tcw!). but i digress đ”âđ«
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